I’ve been thinking about this post for about a week now, and still don’t know what exactly I’m going to say. I’m just trying to make sense of some things, basically. So forgive me if this is a tad rambly.

The thing is, I’ve been involved in the online writing/reading community since 2005 now. And in that time things have gotten–in my view, at least–more and more antagonistic and upsetting. I wonder why. This post–this series of posts planned for this week–is my attempt to figure it out, I guess. To express my thoughts and see what yours are, and perhaps to offer a potential solution. And in order to do that I’m going to be very honest, and perhaps harsh in some places, but I’m trying to express my full thought process here. So we’ll see how it goes.

In the past nine days or so the internet–at least the writer/reader part of it–seems to have gone kablooey. Specifically, the writer part of it, in that we’ve had a rash of writers deciding it’s their place to tell readers A) How to review books; B) What is and is not okay to say or think; C) Why their opinion is totally wrong; and D) whatever other ridiculous shit they come up with.

I’m aware of five separate incidents, the latest being a self-published author who, in response to a reasoned but negative review, took it upon himself to leave 40 comments–yes, forty–on the blog quoting the fawning letters he’d received about the book from family and friends. And then many more comments insisting that what he did was totally professional and reasonable and why is the reviewer in question so full of hate, yo? And that’s nothing compared to the others, the writers ranting on their blogs and leaving nasty or argumentative comments on Goodreads and blah blah blah.

Guys…cut it out. Just, seriously, cut it out.

Readers have the right to say whatever the fuck they want about a book. Period. They have that right. If they hate the book because the MC says the word “delicious” and the reader believes it’s the Devil’s word and only evil people use it, they can shout from the rooftops “This book is shit and don’t read it” if they want. If they want to write a review entirely about how much they hate the cover, they can if they want. If they want to make their review all about how their dog Foot Foot especially loved to pee on that particular book, they can.

Why?

Because, and I’ve said this before, reviews are for readers. Because they purchased the book (or it was sent to them specifically hoping they would express an opinion) and so can say whatever they want about it. If you buy a shirt that falls apart in the wash, do you keep your mouth shut about it because you don’t want to hurt the manufacturer’s feelings?

Authors, reviews are not for you. They are not for you. Authors, reviews are not for you.

This is why I get so annoyed when I see authors banging on about “constructive” reviews. Constructive how? What are you going to do, ask your publisher to pull the book so you can go back and rewrite it to suit Doris in New York who thought the MC was an idiot? Or because Amy in California didn’t understand the solution to the mystery? (Note: I pulled those names out of my ass; they do not refer to or allude to any actual readers or reviews.) Really? A review is one person’s opinion. One person. One. What exactly do you hope to learn from that one opinion that will make such a huge difference? What do you think you’ll learn from any review, except what that particular person thinks about the book? Reviews are not critiques and they are not written for you, and reviews are completely subjective.

And dude, if you think it’s possible to write a book everyone will love, I question your understanding of human nature and thus your ability to write a decent character. I have to be honest, when I see a writer talking about “constructive” reviews I generally assume that writer is a beginner and either hasn’t been published for long or has been published with micropresses.

That’s the same way I feel about authors who attempt to game Amazon reviews. Well, no, actually it isn’t. I think authors who read their reviews looking for writing tips are amateurish. I think writers who attempt to game Amazon reviews, by begging family and/or friends to leave them (positive; they claim they want honest reviews but they’re asking family and friends so really, what they want and expect are positive reviews; one of the recent very minor not-really-public kerfuffles I’m aware of was over this very situation) or by asking family/friends to place “Most/Least Helpful” votes in an attempt to move the positive reviews up–which, BTW, is in fact trying to dick around with the system no matter what some people might think…those writers?

Those writers are cheats, plain and simple. They’re sleazeballs. They’re liars. They’re attempting to deceive readers, to trick them into thinking their book has an enthusiastic audience it has not actually earned and a proven level of quality it may not actually have. They’re attempting to trick readers into buying the book based on falsehoods; this is perhaps not quite the same as the PA author who stuck the Grand Central logo onto her book in an attempt to make people think she was legitimately published, but it’s in the same ballpark. I’m sorry, but lying to readers and trying to trick them into buying your book is wrong. It’s sleazy and it’s wrong, and you are unethical and unprofessional for doing it, and you make me angry.

Why do you make me angry? Because when you lie and cheat and deceive, you cast doubt on all of us who do not lie, cheat, and deceive. I’ve heard more than one reader now claim that if a book’s reviews are too positive overall–too high a proportion of 5-star reviews–that reader automatically assumes the reviews are false. In other words, your deception and dishonesty casts me in that same light and makes me look like a big faker. Yes, it’s upsetting that it may cost me book sales, but what’s more upsetting is that I’m guilty by association; I’m an author, so I must be cheating scum who thinks readers are pawns in my Success Game too. I don’t appreciate being guilty by association and I don’t appreciate being penalized because you think lying to people is a great way to promote yourself.

Full disclosure: Yes, not long after I gave BE A SEX-WRITING STRUMPET a new cover for Kindle, I mentioned here on the blog that if anyone who’d read the series or the book wanted to leave a review, positive, negative, or neutral, I’d be grateful. To me that’s a different thing, and here’s why: A) You guys are my readers. And as much as I feel very friendly and warm toward you and would love to help you out in some way if I can, you’re not really my personal friends, at least the majority of you aren’t, and you’re not my family. You have no personal stake in my happiness nor, I’d imagine, do you have any special desire to, and you certainly have zero obligation to. We have a sort of business-esque relationship. I know many of you care about me–I’m still overwhelmed by all the emails etc. I got after Stephen informed you all that I was in the hospital–and I care about you all as well, but it’s not like we know the details of each others’ lives or talk on the phone or whatever else. B) Because we’re not generally personal friends, I don’t know who you are. I don’t know your names or the names on your Amazon accounts; I have no way of checking to see if you personally reviewed me, so I don’t think the pressure is there. In addition, there’s C) which is that even those of you who comment regularly, so I know your names, are only a small percentage of the number of people who actually visit this blog on a daily basis. Less than 10% (ETA: actually, that was a misstatement: it’s less than 1% on average). So how in the world would I follow up with any of you, even if I were the sort of person to do so? Not to mention D) I said specifically it didn’t matter if the review was positive or not and I meant it. And E), which is that I didn’t offer any sort of prizes or incentives or anything else in an attempt to bribe anyone into leaving reviews.

To be honest, I wasn’t entirely comfortable with asking even given all of that, and I’m still not. But I’d been given so many positive comments from you all, and from people who don’t read regularly, that I figured it wouldn’t hurt to just mention it. And given that the book only has a dozen reviews at this point, I don’t think many if any of you felt pressured to leave a review. That’s wonderful, because I absolutely didn’t want to make you feel that way. I’m genuinely pleased that you didn’t feel pressured; I would have felt awful if you had.

The reason why I would have felt awful is because, again, you have no obligation to me at all. None. Zero. Zip. NO reader has ANY obligation to an author, whether it be to leave a review or to write a “constructive” one. I put out a product. You are consumers of that product. Since when does that mean you have to kiss my ass? Hey, I like Pop-Tarts and eat them a few times a year; since when does that mean I’m obligated to support Kellogg’s in any way except legally purchasing the Pop-Tarts before I eat them? I wasn’t aware that purchasing and consuming a product meant I was under some sort of fucking thrall in which I’m only allowed to either praise the Pop-Tart (which to be honest isn’t hard, especially the S’mores flavor) or, if I am going to criticize a flavor, offer a specific and detailed analysis as to why, phrased in as inoffensive and gentle a manner as possible so as not to upset the gentle people at Kellogg’s.

And you know what? If I hated Pop-Tarts and decided to go online and tell everyone how they smell like vomit and make me feel sick, that’s fine. Because I’m not under any obligation at all to like Pop-Tarts, or to keep silent about my dislike. Because I bought the product (and I don’t mean to imply here that only those who purchase an item can express an opinion about them, it’s just the easiest and shortest phrase; I could be just as negative about Pop-Tarts had I been given one to try at a friend’s house, although I do admit that I get a tad irked when I see people writing negative reviews for books they stole, but whatever; that’s just my personal feeling and not me claiming people who steal books aren’t allowed to leave reviews) I have completed the business transaction, and I am entitled to whatever reaction I choose.

I wonder often how many of the authors who whine about negative reviews and/or yammer on about how reviews should be “constructive” never have a bad word to say about, frex, a movie they watched and disliked? Do they make sure their review is “constructive” so the director and stars can learn something from it–do they actually assume the director and stars are reading their review? When they’re given bad food in a restaurant, are they careful to offer three positive comments for every negative one they make? (“The presentation is lovely and it smells wonderful, but I’m afraid the chicken is raw. Perhaps the chef could leave it on the grill for another five minutes in future. The sauce is great, though, and I’m sure it won’t give me salmonella even though it was in contact with the raw meat. Thanks for giving me the chance to try it!”) You know? If they believe readers are somehow obligated to remember the author’s feelings when leaving a review, how much do they do that when they consume products or entertainment they do not enjoy?

And don’t even get me started on the idea that readers should somehow be frightened or intimidated because authors are reading their reviews. Or actually, do, because I’ll move into that with the next post, because this one is getting a bit long.

But we’re not done with this topic. We’re not done talking about reviews, or expressing opinions, or the writer/reader relationship, or whatever else falls under those umbrellas.

Last night I saw a link–I’m not going to repost it here, the poor girl has been through enough–to the blog of a writer who had just self-published her novel. The link was to a new post, in which the writer announced–with palpable and understandable excitement–that Jodi Reamer of Writers House (that’s a big-name agent at a big-name agency, for those of you unfamiliar) had seen her book, emailed her to offer representation, and gotten her a deal with (if memory serves) HarperTeen. A big deal, a six-figure type deal.

Obviously people were thrilled for her, in the way so many of us are thrilled for another person–happy for them, perhaps tinged with a bit of envy, because we’re all only human and at heart most humans are, frankly, selfish, evil little beings. Socialization and morals and ethics and all of that teaches us how to deal with those selfish, evil little thoughts, but they’re still there.

Anyway. A few people were not as thrilled; they were skeptical. I admit to being in this camp. I’ve seen publishing deals happen at lightspeed–I know a few people whose agents submitted their work in the morning and had offers by the afternoon–and of course agents can offer to represent at lightspeed as well (my agent offered two days after my initial contact with him, and I’ve known people who’ve gotten offers on the same day). It does happen, sure, but to get an agent and a large deal all in a day or so is extremely unusual. To be able to announce that deal so quickly is even more–well, no, it’s not even unusual. It is, frankly, unheard of. Generally deals aren’t announced until contracts are signed, or at least until the contract stage has been reached (meaning, the fine points are agreed to and we’re just waiting for the paperwork). Lots of us wait until our deals are announced in Publisher’s Marketplace; not because we have to, but because it’s fun to be able to post the little blurb they print in there. It makes it feel real. (In fact, my agent rarely reports to PM, and did so for me because I asked him to, batting my eyelashes and all of that while I did. Okay, no, I didn’t bat my eyelashes, but I did ask, because I wanted that announcement; I wanted to see it confirmed somewhere, because so many people read PM and it’s exciting.)

But this isn’t about deals being posted or anything. It’s about the fact that apparently the expressed skepticism of some people alerted the writer that maybe she should just double-check everything. So she called Writers House.

And discovered that an extremely cruel joke had just been played on her. And not just her, either:

From today’s Publisher’s Lunch:

Writers House has learned that a series of fake emails claiming to be from WH agent Jodi Reamer have been circulating to self-published authors this week. “These emails, which contain a number of false statements, have not in fact come from Jodi Reamer and should thus be disregarded.” One easy “tell”: they advise that any e-mail from a non-Writers House address “expressing interest in representation is counterfeit.”

I cannot even begin to express how absolutely horrified I am on this poor girl’s behalf (and on behalf of the others to whom this happened); I can’t even imagine how it must feel to think you’ve accomplished something like that and to discover that no, you were simply a victim, something to be exploited for someone else’s sick enjoyment. That you were treated as if you’re not even human, less than nothing, not a person with feelings but some sort of computer construct to be toyed with. Who the hell would do something like that? What the fuck is wrong with people? Do they like to kick puppies, too, and maybe wander up to random children and tell them they’re useless, stupid little shits who’ll never amount to anything in the world? What kind of person gets their jollies from doing this sort of thing?

When did we forget that those other people, the ones on the other side of the computer, are in fact people, real people with feelings, and not Sims?

A while ago I did a post on bullies. It feels like things have gotten worse since then. No one is content to just let someone else have their own opinion anymore, and I’m sorry, but the fact that they posted that opinion on the internet does not mean it’s okay to gang up on them and call them names. You want to disagree with their opinion, fine. I personally don’t always see the point in making a big deal about disagreeing with it–I tend to just think “Huh. I don’t agree with that” and move on, unless it’s factual misinformation, in which case I still strive to be polite and respectful–but if you feel they need to hear your point, go ahead.

But there’s a difference between “I disagree with your opinion” and “Dude, you’re a fucking idiot.” There’s a difference between “This is incorrect” and “Dude, you’re a fucking idiot.” And why the hell do you care what they think, anyway? Why is it so important to you to lurk on people’s Twitter feeds and make fun of them in your own? Why do you need to send hoax emails to people just because they have dreams and are trying to accomplish something? Is that really fun? Do you even care that a human being is on the other end of that, a human being you’re being purposefully cruel to just because you can?

Yes, sure, people shouldn’t put things out there if they don’t want others to react. Yes, people should expect disagreement and not get all butthurt because someone does disagree. Yes, we’re adults and need to take responsibility for what we put out there.

But other people’s lives are not a fucking game. Just because someone doesn’t think or feel the way you think or feel doesn’t mean it’s okay to call all of your friends to gang up on them and giggle in public. Just because that person exists doesn’t mean you have the right to stomp all over them. Does it make you feel good about yourself to reduce another person to tears, to make them the butt of your jokes? Have you proved that you’re cool, because you can take an offhand remark they made and turn it into a huge debacle, or misinterpret something they said and spread that misinterpretation around, encouraging others to pile on as well, or play a prank on them and make them think their dreams have come true? Is it really that much fun to treat other people like shit? How the fuck do you people sleep at night?

I’m sick of it, is all. I’m sick of this internet culture that makes people think that other people are simply toys for their amusement, and that it’s okay to jump all over them and keep jumping, that it’s fun to do so. I’m sick of the idea that because it’s a group of people doing it, it’s okay to join in. I’m sick of the idea that it’s open season on anyone and everyone, and that if they wanted to have feelings they should have thought of that before they logged on to the internet. I’m sick of the idea that this kind of shit is cool, and I’m sick of the way people are dehumanized, and I’m sick of the internet culture that reminds me so strongly of Christians thrown to the lions.

Next time you go to comment on something, just think for one second. Is it really necessary to share my opinion here? How much does this really matter, in the big picture? Does this person really deserve my scorn? How would I feel, if someone said this to me? Am I sure I’m interpreting their point correctly?

I’m not saying you can’t have opinions or make them public. I’m not saying you should never respond. I’m not saying you can’t gossip with your friends in email or whatever else. I’m certainly not saying you shouldn’t speak up when someone is being unjust, or that you shouldn’t alert people to that injustice and/or warn others away from it, or stick up for those who can’t stick up for themselves; I absolutely believe you should.

I’m just saying, don’t forget, that other person is a person, too. Being cruel to them, picking their words apart when they didn’t mean to offend, playing tricks on them, laughing and kicking them when they’re down, publicly encouraging others to go and pick and laugh too? It doesn’t make you cool. It makes you a fucking asshole, and I’m sick of seeing it, and I’m sick of watching people be bullied online and then told they deserved it for daring to put themselves out there.

Just saw a link to this:

Another ETA: I want to make it very clear that my post is NOT referring to any other posts written about this specific situation. Indeed, it’s not about any one blog, blog post, or specific incident; or rather, I’m very angry and upset about this situation and on behalf of this writer but when I speak of internet culture etc. etc. I’m speaking in generalities, and absolutely NOT referring to or accusing anyone of anything over this particular situation (except the actual hoaxers, of course).

Just wanted to mention that, because I know a couple of other posts have been written about this. I read those after I wrote my post, and am not at all reacting or responding to them here.

I’m pretty sure most of you know that already, actually, although I did see a bit of confusion over the summer when the subject of a possible youthful dalliance/crush of his came up in UNHOLY MAGIC (and for the record, for those curious: yes, there was some canoodling, although it was more curiosity/ego-feeding/careless fun for the other party). I thought that was fairly obvious, but didn’t see any reason to press the point or have him running around monologuing about being gay; the man is gay, and Chess obviously knows he’s gay, and nobody cares that he’s gay, so why would he do a speech about his gayness? Especially in that world, where being gay isn’t remotely an issue to anyone and gay marriage is totally legal.

(I can’t resist throwing in another worldbuilding note there: for certain people, like Church employees, simple cohabitation is not permitted [gay or straight]. You’re either married or you live alone, period.)

(Oh, and those of you who read THE BRAVE TALE OF MADDIE CARVER may have noticed a slight reference to his sexuality there, too, when Maddie thinks about how his family abandoned him because of it.)

Anyway. So Elder Griffin is gay. And his part in the next books is a bit bigger, and (minor spoiler) he does have an active love life and that becomes part of the next books as well, and it’s something that makes me happy. Because it’s important to me to add that to my books. It’s important to have some diversity. It’s important because the real world is diverse, and it’s important because who knows might see it and maybe think about it, or maybe feel better about it. Elder Griffin is first and foremost a good man, a smart one and a kind one and a loving one; one who adds great value to Chess’s life. His being gay is part of him but it’s also incidental. He is more than GAY. He is (at least I hope he is) a full, living, breathing, thinking, feeling, human being of worth who happens to be gay.

All of this is my way of explaining why yesterday I emailed Trisha Telep to pull my short story HOME from the MAMMOTH BOOK OF GHOST ROMANCE anthology.

You can read the background on this here and here.

HOME is a Downside story; I think I’ve mentioned it before? It is, I think, the closest thing to a “happy” Downside story as can exist–at least one from Chess’s POV–and for that reason it was fun to write (again, plus kinky hippies, which was a hoot).

It also involves–revolves around, to no small extent–bisexuality/homosexuality, in an important and positive way.

HOME is not dead. I’m considering some other options at the moment, because I absolutely want to make sure those of you waiting for the next Downside book get to read the story in the interim. And in fact there are a few potential Downside stories in the works for you guys in addition to the one appearing in HOME IMPROVEMENT: UNDEAD EDITION, which will be released August 2nd. So you’ll get to read it, I’m just not sure how, where, or when (but my plan is sooner rather than later).

Because I feel that to not speak up here, to not pull the story, takes something away from Elder Griffin, and from every other gay character I’ve ever written (Carter in the Demons books, too, as another example). In fact it takes something away from every character I’ve written, because it makes them all less human. It treats them like characters and not people; it treats them as unimportant, as lip service. They’re not that. They matter to me. And hopefully they matter to readers. And maybe they even matter to someone who sees themselves in them–in any of my characters, no matter what traits or differences or faults or personality quirks or whatever else they may have that some people feel it’s okay to judge or condemn–and realizes it’s okay to be exactly who and what they are.

Because it is.

Last night I got a couple of pingbacks in my email, letting me know some of my posts had been linked to. I think you can guess which ones; the little series I did several weeks back about watching what you say online.

Turns out that little tempest-in-a-teapot has not in fact died, but has grown and changed and turned into something huge and sinister. Turns out there are people out there now–otherwise reasonable people, I assume–who are equating my words with threats that someone will never be published or will never find an agent, that authors can and will “blackball” someone for a negative review, or whatever. Turns out I have somehow inadvertently created a cabal (NOTE: This doesn’t mean I think it’s all down to me or anything, just that my post is being linked to by people who say it was/is a “key exchange” in starting the whole thing. Trust me, there may be things in this world I’d like credit for. Threatening to ruin people’s careers from behind the scenes like some sort of self-important literary Blofeld is not one of them). The YA Mafia. I’m not sure how that happened, given that I’m not published in YA, but my posts are being linked to as the ones that started it all. And hey, my agent has a YA proposal from me as I write this, which I’m extremely excited about because it has all sorts of dark bloody creepiness in it. Including Springheel Jacks (yes, Jacks, as in more than one. Whee!). I digress.

I’m extremely tempted to ignore all of this and just move on. The only reason I’m not doing it is because it apparently started with me, so I feel partly responsible for the discussions, and because people are spreading some pretty wild stories about what I said (no offense to that commenter, who seems a very nice, rational person. Hers was simply the first comment I saw to illustrate my point. It is far from the only comment of that sort out there, and most people don’t apologize when it’s pointed out that they’ve misinterpreted something like that. She did. I appreciate that. This isn’t about her at all. It is about the fact that this is all getting blown way out of proportion, and I don’t appreciate being lied about).

There is no “mafia.” No writer in the world can keep you from getting published if your work is good. Period.

So you might not get a blurb from someone. As I said repeatedly when this all started, so fucking what? That’s not going to ruin your career, or end it before it’s even begun. So when you do a panel with someone they might not invite you for a drink afterward. Again, oh well.

The statement was NEVER made, by me or anyone else I’m aware of, that writing a negative review of a book could mean you never get published or repped.

The statement was NEVER made by me or anyone else I’m aware of that I would ask my agent not to rep someone who gave me a bad review. I said I might be a little hurt. Sorry, I am a human being, with feelings, just like everyone else. My agent and I have a very close relationship. I might be a little hurt. I probably wouldn’t even mention this to him (and for the record, he told me that if the review was really nasty he’d assume the writer isn’t very professional and thus not be interested in them, but a calm “This is why it didn’t work for me” wouldn’t be a big deal if the work was wonderful). I certainly wouldn’t email or call him and say “So-and-so only gave me two stars. I never want to see you go near her/him ever.”

Nor would I do that with my editor, which is another claim being made. Would I care if she signed a writer who didn’t like my work? Not one damn bit, no. An editor-author relationship is different from an agent-author relationship, for one thing. And for another…

Geez, guys, it’s just a review. Who cares about it, really?

Yeah, I might not want to blurb you if you took the time to write a big old post about not liking my book. So what. As I said in my original post, that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t help you with other things if you needed it. That certainly doesn’t mean I’d start calling people to put your name on the Secret Mafia Blackball List. It certainly doesn’t mean I’d go out of my way to damage your career.

The simple truth is–and I mean this in the nicest possible way–I don’t care about you. I don’t know you. You don’t mean anything to me, beyond being another human being with whom I share this planet. If you’re one of my readers you mean a little more to me, sure. I try to do whatever I can for my readers; I love them. I will and have gone out of my way for them, whether they blog or not. But if you’re not one of them, you’re probably not on my radar at all. If I see your negative review I’ll probably shrug. Again as I said in those posts, if I have to choose between blurbing you and blurbing a book by one of my readers, my reader gets the blurb (unless her books sucks, which of course it won’t, because my readers are so awesome it hurts). That’s assuming I even remember your name; I don’t write this shit down, and I have a horrible memory. I might google you, if I’m bored. I might not; I probably won’t.

Somehow it seems book bloggers in general got tied up in all of this, which I find extremely upsetting, and frankly confusing. I’m not really sure how much more outspoken I can be on the subject of book bloggers/readers having the right to say anything they damn well please about a book, short of buying a bullhorn and picketing genre conventions. I have never once failed to back the reader/reader-blogger when it comes to an author vs. situation, and yeah, it is personally upsetting to me to see that completely disregarded, to see no one even bothering to read the posts I linked to on that subject before declaring what my intentions and words were.

That’s too bad for me, though. Because–and here is where we go full circle–anything you say on the internet is public, and people are people and don’t always take things the way you want them to. Because, which was honestly the whole point of the first post in the series, once you become a writer and have work published you are no longer free to speak your mind as clearly and openly as you once were; or rather, you certainly are free to do so, but there are and will be consequences. I can point not only to this little kerfuffle, but to numerous others to illustrate this. The line “She put it out there on the internet, it’s public, she can say whatever she wants but she has to accept that people might not like it and will talk about it” has been repeated so many times by so many people it’s almost funny at this point.

Yes, it sucks. Yes, it’s frustrating and difficult sometimes. Tough. It’s part of the job.

What this all boils down to is that somehow, my attempt to pass on a bit of advice–the internet can be scary, it really can, and you never know what might set someone off so it’s best to just be very careful and not burn any bridges–has turned into ALL YOUR PUBLISHING CHANCES ARE BELONG TO ME.

There is no “Mafia.” No one has that much power. Quite frankly, nothing that happens on the internet is that damn important. All of those “Authors Behaving Badly” posts out there? Don’t really matter. Those authors are still publishing, and the vast majority of readers have no idea of the scandal du jour. Although it seems big, the number of readers who actually hang out in the online readerworld is minute.

And something else I learned is that for every person who sees what you say and thinks “Man, fuck that bitch”–whether it’s because of what you said or what they think you said or whatever–there’s someone else who thinks, “Man, that chick is awesome for speaking her mind.”

The lesson there? People are people, and we’re all different. Some of us may feel one way, some another.

But we’re still people. Yes, people can be incredibly scary sometimes. But most of us aren’t. We’re a pretty decent bunch, I think, we writers. We might get annoyed by something or upset when attacked or whatever; we have bad days just like everyone or anyone else. We have to be careful when we have those bad days, more careful than non-writers. We have to be careful especially if we’re women.

But I’m also careful when I go out alone at night. That doesn’t mean I’m afraid to do it at all. I’m just careful.

My post was intended as a bit of advice, and something interesting to discuss. I say down on the Sunday night and thought, “Oh, that’ll be a cool topic to discuss. I can do a little series on it, that’ll be fun. I like doing series.” It was not intended as some sort of rule. It was most certainly not a threat; it never occurred to me that anyone would think of it that way, because to assume someone is threatening you is to assume they have some power over you, and I have none. I’ve never claimed to have any.

But sheesh, guys, there’s nothing to be afraid of. Yes, the internet is forever, but you know what? Nothing is forever. Things are forgotten. People move on. People stop caring, if they ever did. No one is threatening you. No one is calling the Boss of Publishing–Don Paperback, or whatever–to tell him you sleep with the fishes. I’m not sure how exactly that belief came about, but it’s not true, and as Zoe Winters says here, “No one EVER Said That.” (Interestingly enough, that belief, the misunderstanding, was really the main point behind my saying “You can’t be both”–not that writers would ostracize you but that readers would misunderstand you/mistrust you. Sadly, it does happen. I’ve seen it. I’ve experienced it.)

What you say online may lose you a few readers. It might gain you a few. It might make Author A not inclined to blurb you. It might make Author B more inclined to do so. I don’t enjoy controversy so I avoid it. I think making enemies is pointless so I avoid it. (Frankly, I think writing negative reviews is generally a waste of my time, because I have no special attachment to reviewing and never have. You may feel differently, and that’s fine. But for me, I’d usually rather spend my time talking about books I loved.) What you say online might very well make you some enemies or thrust you into unwanted controversy. It may cross a few names of your list. Like I said, I don’t understand why someone would feel so strongly about being able to review, or why they would be upset at being told they have to be careful with what they say, since A) When you’re published you have to be even more careful, and B) Isn’t that sort of standard in the world? Don’t we always need to be careful what we say? Just like we don’t walk up to someone on the street and say “Wow! Your dress is really ugly!” so we are careful what we put out there publicly online, too.

But what your statements online won’t do is keep you from getting published if your work is good. (Hell, even if it isn’t; I know one specific example of this, who although the houses aren’t particularly well-regarded or established, they’re still putting out books with that writer’s name on them, and there are so many marks against that person it makes my head spin.) Unless you are a complete ranting harpie, if your work is good you will find people who want to work with you.

The writing is everything. The work is everything. Focus on that, and quit worrying about whether or not it’s okay to say you didn’t like a book. There is no “Mafia.” There is no “blacklist.” There are only people, and we’re all different. And most of all there are books, and those are what matter more than anything else.

Seriously. Don’t worry about this. Just write the best book you can.

Other posts on this topic:

Holly Black

Ally Carter

Justine Larbalestier

Amperstory

Janni Simner

Cleolinda Jones

Foz Meadows

Dia Reeves

An older but extremely trenchant post from Ilona Andrews

(This reminds me; I don’t suppose any of you out there reading this happen to be car salesmen in South Florida? Anything like that? BFF Cori needs to buy a new car, and I’d love to be able to send her to someone trustworthy, by which I mean one of my readers since of course nobody rocks harder than my readers. So if you’re in a position to help, contact me through the site, and maybe you’ll get special signed books or Seekrit Inside Info or something too.)

So. Copyright. This is one of those topics that’s so big and so important I almost don’t even know where to start. The simple fact is, copyright is what enables me to do what I do. Copyright is the reason I’m sitting here with my laptop–my laptop that copyright bought (used, because it’s a Mac and they’re fricking expensive new, but still). Copyright is the reason there are Downside stories; it’s the reason they exist, the reason those characters and that world exist.

I’ve touched on the subject of piracy before, notably in my post about trusting readers and not treating them like shit. And honestly, I don’t know that I can really say it any differently or any more clearly than I did then; piracy is a financial bite, and don’t let anyone tell you any different. Yes, I was lucky, and I got offers for more Downside books. I know quite a few people whose series aren’t continuing because of low sales, but funnily enough, free copies of their books have been downloaded thousands of times. It’s all well and good for huge bestsellers to be blase about piracy; the rest of us need every sale to keep our careers going, and it frankly makes me angry to see them being cavalier like that instead of thinking back to the beginnings of their careers, or thinking how much of a difference their voice could make to those who are struggling.

But this isn’t about piracy, either. I know what all of the excuses are, the “They wouldn’t have bought it anyway,” as if that makes it okay for them to steal, or the “it actually increases sales,” or whatever. I don’t care. Yes, that’s right. I don’t actually care. To me it’s very simple: those stories and characters belong to me. You’re using them without paying (or going through a legal channel like a library or borrowing from a friend or whatever). Therefore you are stealing from me. Period.

See, at its base, that’s what copyright is. Copyright is a way to mark ownership of something intangible. Ideas can’t be copyrighted, no, but a written story can be. A film can be. A drawing can be. Copyright enables artists to live off of their skills.

I can’t draw to save my life, seriously. It’s not a talent I have. I’m lucky if I manage to make my stick figures look human. Most people I know aren’t great artists. I think people who are deserve some sort of recognition for that; they deserve our appreciation, our recognition. Visual artists beautify our world, quite simply. Every time you see a logo, a design, a pattern; every painting or drawing, every piece of public sculpture, you are seeing something made possible by copyright, and you are seeing something that adds something special to our society, something that reflects who and what we are.

Seriously, think for a minute about a world with no visual art. All buildings are just plain flat squares. Billboards are just black words on white backgrounds, all in Times New Roman or something. There are no textiles in this world; there’s very little color. No attempt has been made to make anything look attractive or inviting.

Yeah, I know, I’m stretching the point. But still. Think about how depressing that world would be, and as you do, think about how much artists add to our lives every single day. Not a day goes by that art doesn’t enrich our lives and our world.

And all those people ask in return is credit for the work they do, for the efforts they make. Just like you expect credit for the work you do; and really, with some exceptions, is your work really any less ephemeral? I know lots of people who would kill to have your job; does that mean I can decide you should be willing to do it for free, and withhold payment from you?

But I believe this is a slippery slope. I believe copyright is something fundamental, that it is in large part what makes our society work, what makes our world work. Yes, there are flaws, of course; I would never even try to imply our society and/or world is perfect, or even that it works particularly well. But copyright is part of the good stuff; it’s one of the positive forces, one of the better elements.

Why? For all of the reasons above. Copyright gives artists time to create and hone their skills. I’m sorry, but contrary to popular belief not everyone can draw, not everyone can write, not everyone can sculpt. I might have the brains to be a surgeon if I applied myself and studied hard, but my hands are simply not steady enough and my vision is terrible. That vision keeps me from being a commercial pilot as well. My height keeps me from being a model or a professional basketball player (yeah, I know, it’s not just my height that keeps me from being a model, but let’s focus on the point, shall we?).

I believe that if we continue to allow our copyright laws to be stepped on, if we continue to act as if they don’t matter, and we continue to buy into this bullshit copyright-is-evil line that’s just an excuse to benefit from other peoples’ work without lifting a finger, we will eventually find there’s nothing left worth stealing. There would be no impetus to create it, frankly.

Because a world without copyright, a world which doesn’t enforce copyright, is a world which doesn’t value art, and doesn’t value artists. Far from commoditizing art, copyright protects art from becoming just a commodity. Copyright recognizes that art is special, that it deserves its own set of protections and rules; that because of the way it enriches our society and changes lives it should be and is separate from other things, and gets special treatment. Copyright recognizes that society has a special responsibility to protect its art, and that society in general benefits from it in immeasurable ways.

A world which doesn’t value art, which doesn’t value artists, which believes copyright is ridiculous, is a world where people are seen as soulless, where individuality doesn’t matter. These people claiming to be rogue rebels, bravely thumbing their noses at copyright laws because art should be for everyone, are in fact trying to stamp on art, devalue it; they are in fact refusing to accept that anyone has anything special inside them, something that’s theirs and their alone, and that there’s any value in expressing that. They’re insisting that everyone is exactly the same, basically, and that there’s no difference between a Renoir and my stick figures. It’s not democratization and it’s not sticking it to The Man. It’s claiming that there’s nothing special or unique or worthwhile in the human soul, it’s claiming that people are worth nothing, and only tangible items have real value.

You’re not being a rebel because you devalue ideas and the expression of them. You’re not being a rebel because you deny artists the chance to make a living. You’re certainly not being a rebel because your response to their need to make a living is to tell them to get a real job, which is exactly what you’re doing when you say things like “You should be willing to do it for free.” Wow, maybe next you’ll tell them to turn down that music and get a decent haircut, huh? You crazy maverick.

Do you honestly think it’s rebellious to treat only things you can hold or taste as if they’re worth anything? Do you honestly think you’re somehow smashing the state by refusing to support artistic expression, by acting as though you’re entitled to the sweat of others’ brows and the fruits of their labor without giving anything in exchange? Do you really believe you’re somehow scoring one for the little guy by devaluing humanity to the point where not only are the souls, thoughts, ideas, and expressions of others are worthless, but where there isn’t even any legal protection in place for those souls, thoughts, ideas, and expressions? Yes, wow, how very subversive of you, treating art as worthless and acting as if other people exist solely to entertain you.

If you want to pirate, go ahead. If you want to steal, go ahead. If you want to devalue art, act as if the world owes you whatever you want, treat other people like commodities, you go ahead.

But don’t fucking pretend it has anything to do with freedom or rebellion, because it doesn’t. It has to do with your own selfishness and sense of entitlement, and in that you’re no different from any of those corporate heads you claim to be so disgusted by. You’re not hurting them. You’re hurting people just like you, and you don’t care as long as you get to fiddle while Rome burns. Good for you.

Only the link didn’t go to Alpha Reader. It went to one of those content-collecting sites, a book focused one. That site has a Twitter account and when they “collect” a review, they tweet it, which is how I found it. Now that I’m thinkig of it I realize I’ve seen them post a duplicate of another review before, but as the review was for a site with many reviewers I thought the reviewer herself owned the “collecting” site (obviously I didn’t realize it was one of those sites) and was simply reposting her own review.

Of course I retweeted the link, thinking it was original. Immediately another reader informed me of the situation, which shocked me and made me feel ill. I deleted my tweet and reposted it with the correct link, giving credit to the actual writer of the post. By name, which the “collecting” site didn’t do; they had “Source: Alpha Reader” in the bottom left corner in a very pale gray font, which wasn’t easy to see.

That pissed me the hell off.

Here’s the thing. I’ve seen it mentioned a couple of times that writers should not acknowledge any reviews at all, be they positive or negative. And I think that’s bullshit. Why in the hell would I not give someone credit for their work? Why would I ignore it, when they’ve said wonderful things about my work, and took the time to write it all down and post it for anyone to see? When they are recommending my books to their friends? Why in the hell would I not at least give them a nod, let them know I did see it and appreciate it?

Not to mention, a lot of these reviews are incredibly well-written. These are reviewers with talent. Thoughtful, intelligent people who really pay attention to what they’re reading, who analyze it. Reviewers who really truly understand the books and what they’re trying to say, who really truly understand the characters. That’s a big deal. That’s a connection with people, a connection you cannot buy. It’s an amazing thing; it’s the best thing about being a writer, it’s the reason why most of us become writers. We want to share something, say something. When you discover that someone heard that and understood it and appreciated it, that something that means so much to you also means so much to them, that’s a big deal.

As far as I’m concerned, someone who reads my books, enjoys them, and takes time out of their day to write a review–especially a thoughtful, detailed one like Danielle’s or like any of the dozens of other fantastic reviews the Downside books have gotten–deserves credit for that. We all like web hits, right? So isn’t it a good thing to do to link to them, to encourage people to check out their blogs? Isn’t it a good thing for those who read my blog to maybe find a new reader blog they’ll enjoy? Maybe they’ll meet someone whose taste is like theirs; maybe they’ll make a new book-friend. Why the hell shouldn’t I do that? Why the hell should I ignore the hard work of someone who has acknowledged mine so kindly?

The “Terrible Fever” Goodreads group has over fifty members now (yes, I realize that hardly makes me a big name or anything, but I think it’s cool). How many of those readers knew each other before they joined up? I haven’t been reading the posts there because I don’t believe that’s my place–reviews are one thing, but discussions on forums among readers are another–but I’m willing to bet that not all of them did. That some of them met each other through that group. Isn’t that cool? Would that have happened if I hadn’t linked to the group here, or retweeted it? It’s very possible, sure, but it’s not definite.

I don’t read the Goodreads group; I don’t think it’s my place to do so. That’s a forum for readers, and they’re having their own discussions, and that’s not my business. I feel like if I popped in and started talking it might stultify the conversation, make them all self-conscious and uncomfortable. That’s the last thing I want to do. And frankly, yeah, I know there are few places that are reader-only anymore, and that it can be frustrating to have writers always popping in to comment. Yes, it’s disappointing and depressing; I am a reader, after all. I’ve been a reader all my life. But it feels sometimes like even if I’m trying to comment as a reader, I’m still not seen as one, and you know, that’s just the way it is, and it’s the price I pay for getting to do this job that I love more than anything.

Here’s the thing. I can’t email reviewers. I can’t contact them and tell them how glad I am that they caught this or understood that, or why the thing that disappointed them happened, or what the implications of the thing they’re curious about will be down the road. I can’t do that. I’ve learned that no matter how diplomatic you try to be, no matter how good your intentions are, no matter how happy you are or how interesting you think such a discussion is–no matter how much you think it would be fucking awesome to have a conversation like that with a writer whose work you read and had thoughts about–some people will always see it as an invasion, as writers butting in and trying to tell them what to do.

But what I can do is link to them. Acknowledge them from a distance. Say in my post that I loved this one or that one, that I found this line or that line particularly well-written and that I appreciated the effort that was put into it. Just as my novels are art to me, so those reviews may well be art to those reviewers, and they’ve put it out there hoping people will see it and understand it and connect with it.

Those reviews, those reviewers, those readers, are what make this whole thing worthwhile. They’re the ones who make all of the blood and sweat and tears, all of the emotional nakedness and pain, every bit of yourself that you put into your work, matter. I think they deserve to be acknowledged for that, and told that they matter. And I’m going to keep doing it.

And you know, I understand that to an extent. It’s scary. The economy is scary. Hell, everything is scary right now; our ocean is filling with oil and all anybody with the power to do something seems interested in doing is pointing fingers and sitting around talking and whatever. There have been earthquakes and tornados and volcanos and shit all over the world. Am I terrified that the world is ending? Honestly? Kinda, yeah. But then, I’m a bit of a pessimist when it comes to this sort of thing; I’m the only person I know who is terrified of outer space and doesn’t even like seeing pictures of it because it reminds me that the earth is this one small rock floating in nothingness and something could go wrong at any second and we could start plummeting, but there’s nothing to land on so we would just keep plummeting through the darkness forever. That’s not a pleasant thought.

It probably won’t happen, either. But I wonder if I start insisting often enough that it will, and get a bunch of people to also start talking about it and how the earth’s field of gravity is thinning, people will start to believe it.

Because it seems to me that everyone is talking about the demise of publishing, but there’s actually no real evidence that it’s dying. Everyone is claiming that ebooks will be the death of publishing, but I honestly don’t understand that at all; how is providing books in another format for people who like that format killing publishing? (Aside from the issue of piracy, which don’t even get me started on.) Aren’t we hearing about people buying more books now that they’re started reading ebooks?

I know a lot of it is just to get website hits, or because people have a specific axe to grind. And you know, none of us are without bias. I certainly don’t want to see publishing die, because it’s how I make my living. I don’t want to see us all switch to self-publishing, for reasons I’ve stated many times before but will recap quickly:

1. Ease of finding something worth reading (low when trying to go through thousands & thousands of self-published books with no quality control or vetting process)

2. Ease of publishing (sure, right now you can go to Lulu and set up a book for free; it’s what Jim Macdonald did for me with the Strumpet book. But do you really think if publishing fails, and self-publishing becomes the norm, those companies won’t start charging, or charging more?)

To be perfectly honest, my feeling is and has always been that if publishing “dies,” and everyone is self-publishing, you’ll soon have people offering to vet books for other people. You’ll have someone who realizes they can make some money by taking the best books out there and printing them for a cut of the money, and setting up some sort of nationwide distribution, and…lookie there, you’ve just reinvented a publishing house.

When people want a book to read, they want a book to read. They do not want to spend hours hunting around for something readable. (Don’t believe it will take hours, or be difficult? Here’s a site where people can post shirt stories for free, called Bibliofaction. It’s a nice site; it’s a fun idea. And I don’t link to it to pick on or put down any of the stories posted there; I link to it to show you how much there is on just that one site, and what a variety of quality there is too.)

Now I’m veering off into my big self-publishing rant again, and I’ve already covered that, so I don’t want to do it again. What I do want to say is that yes, times are a bit hard right now. Yes, I’m seeing good writers whose series don’t get to go on because sales that would have been good enough three years ago aren’t anymore, or if they do get contracted for more books their advances are lower. It’s awful and it’s sad.

But for every series that doesn’t do so well, there are series that are big hits and make tons of money. I’m tired of seeing that ignored. I’m tired of seeing specious statistics bandied about all the time, like the “95% of published books don’t sell more than 500 copies,” which sounds terrifying until you realize that the people who came up with that statistic were including every single book published, including self-published books, technical manuals, employee guidebooks, specialist textbooks, souvenir books, and whatever else. The idea that most NY published books sell less than 500 copies is simply incorrect.

This study by The Association of American Publishers estimates the publishing industry sold $23.9 BILLION worth of books in 2009. Yes, that’s down almost two percent from 2008 (although apparently in the last seven years overall it’s grown), but when you consider how the economy took a swim in Lake Shitty in early-mid 2008 especially, that’s really not that bad, is it? How much have other industries lost? If we can use this CNN article as any indicator, auto industry sales/profits dropped about 30%. Freddie Mac says home prices fell almost five percent in 2009 (it was a much bigger percentage in ’08).

Yes, it’s a scary time right now. Yes, we’re all watching it and keeping an eye on what’s happening. Yes, advances aren’t as high as they once were–at least so I understand. But we’re still getting deals. We’re still getting advances. Every day.

But that doesn’t mean we all need to start desperately casting around for some other way to earn a living, or start pontificating on how publishing is “broken” and it’s the end for it. It’s not. As long as people want to read books, there will be publishing. Quite frankly, for all the “publishing is dying” talk I hear online, it seems to be pretty limited to online; the average person–the average reader–has no idea this discussion is happening, and they care even less. And why should they? The only thing readers should–or should be expected to–care about is that they get books they want to read when they want to read them and in the format in which they want them, at an affordable price. (Readers are of course welcome to care more about it if they want, but it’s certainly not a requirement, is my point. I don’t want to bore my readers with talk about how my life will end if they don’t buy my books and I’ll end up selling matches on the street and how expensive everything is–like they don’t know that–and how I really need their help or whatever. As I’ve said here before, entertaining readers is my job. Yes, I want and expect to be paid for it, but beyond that they have zero obligation to me, and I certainly don’t expect them to give a shit about my financial situation. Remember how I’d rather not have people buy my books because I nagged them into it? Yeah. I’d rather they not buy them because I guilted them into it, either. I’m fucking lucky I get to write books for a living, and I try not to forget that and act like it’s some kind of burden.)

Anyway.

Whether the agent commission goes up to 20%, as the lovely Victoria Strauss suggests in this post (which also links back to me, making a nifty linky circuit), or whether more agents branch out into different areas of the business, or whatever…I think reports of publishing’s death are greatly exaggerated, and to be perfectly frank I’m tired of hearing about it. I don’t know if that’s me being sensible or being ostrich-like, but I’m tired of constantly feeling like the sword of Damocles dangles over all of our heads. I’m tired of feeling like there are crowds of people rubbing their hands together gleefully and waiting for publishing to fail, for whatever reason; I don’t understand it, as I don’t see why anyone would want to have to wade through slush for hours, but people can certainly do what they like.

I refuse to feel that way anymore. I refuse to listen to alarmists and bone-pickers. Will I keep in mind that things are tough all over? Absolutely. Will I remember how tight money is? Again, absolutely.

And I will use that knowledge to inspire me to write more and better books, to challenge myself more, to not take sales for granted but to remember that I need to push myself to be great, to be outstanding, to put everything I have into my work. I’ll use that knowledge to inspire me to write bigger stories, bigger worlds, bigger characters; to remember that “good enough” isn’t good enough. And so even if I don’t achieve that greatness and never get to be outstanding I at least wasn’t lazy. At least I tried. At least I didn’t forget that what it ultimately comes down to are readers, and what they want, and that my job is to try to give it to them, to impress and entertain them and make them think and feel.

So everyone else can sit around in the doom-and-gloom corner and decide the end is coming and there’s nothing we can do about it. I’ll be over here writing more books.

Because that’s what I do.

I’m sure you’re probably getting sick of seeing my reviews, but I do have another quick one to share. From WickedlilPixie at Writings of a Wicked Book Addict:

Unholy Ghosts is the first book in Stacia Kane’s Downside Series & it was phenomenal! It is one of the most grittiest, in your face Urban Fantasies I’ve ever read & I loved it…If you read one new Urban Fantasy series, make it Unholy Ghosts.

So something I’ve been thinking about for a while, as you guys know, is what urban fantasy truly is as a genre, and where it’s going, and how my books fit into it. (Remember the The Books Are Out There post?

And of course we’re now exactly one week away from the official release date of UNHOLY GHOSTS. And I’m wondering how people will respond to it, whether they’ll love it or hate it, whether the darkness will be too much for them, whether they’ll accept a drug addict as a heroine, all of those things that I worried and wondered about even as I wrote it.

But here’s the thing. I feel like urban fantasy has, as a genre, been somehow relegated to the “Girl” section. It’s been dismissed as “Girl books.” And many guys really do seem to think this way. I’ve seen a lot of them in various places referring to UF as “just paranormal romance with a little more action,” or “hot girl in leather solves mystery, sleeps with paranormal creatures.”

And honestly? I think to some extent that’s true. No, hear me out. Other worlds and paranormal creatures do tend to be a big part of urban fantasy. The heroines often have sex (mine certainly do) and it’s often with paranormal creatures (Megan sleeps with a demon, for example, but in Chess’s world the only paranormal creatures are ghosts, and they don’t really make good bed partners, what with the trying to kill you and all).

But I don’t see where that’s necessarily a problem. Why is it that as soon as romance and/or sex become genre tropes, that genre is automatically consigned to the Girl Ghetto, and judged to be “not real,” (as in “not real fantasy”) or “not as good.” Why is it that just saying it’s “for girls” automatically has such a negative connotation?

That’s not how urban fantasy started, and it’s not all there is to the genre. But even if it was, I don’t see what the problem is. Do men dislike reading about sex? Somehow I doubt it. Do men have a problem reading about hot chicks? Again, somehow I doubt it. So what is it? Why has urban fantasy become essentially chick-lit fantasy, and something men automatically avoid?

I think in part it’s because it’s considered “not manly” somehow to like books where there’s an emotional story s well as the main story, and where that emotional story is given a place of importance. Personally, I think that’s crap. Fantasy readers are supposed to be smarter than that, and less worried about what other people think of them. I get incredibly sick and tired of the idea that fantasy is only for boys, that comics are only for boys, that science fiction is only for boys, that shows like Doctor Who are only for boys, that fandom is only for boys, that comic conventions are only for boys. Who put them in charge?

You could make the argument that for years they’re the ones who kept various fandoms going. (I’ll never forget the movie Trekkies, when they interviewed some guys who did an annual birthday party for Captain Kirk [if memory serves] and one of the guys said, “Last year we even had a girl come.” Ouch.) And you know what, if that’s true, then I can see the resentment, at least to some extent. I really can. Nobody likes to see a genre or subculture or whatever to which they’ve given their time, attention, care, and support suddenly get co-opted and turned into some big huge thing. It’s irritating when those same people who laughed at you or spit at you or beat you up or called you names five years before are suddenly acting like they’re your best friends and always have been. I’ve been there.

But I’d really think that men would welcome women. If nothing else, it greatly increases their chances of getting laid, right? And nobody’s saying they can’t still have their boy-only gatherings. Just that it would be nice if they’d stop actively and loudly resenting the women, and dismissing them, and poking fun at them, and basically doing to them what many people in the past have done to them. It’s not right, and it’s not fair.

My love of fantasy came from my brother, who was way into D&D. He’s five years older than me, so at the age he was really getting into role-playing games and Lord of the Rings, I was seven. He used to test some of his new games on me, and occasionally I’d just ask to play one with him, because it was neat. I liked being a tough girl warrior; I liked inventing new characters and writing them up on sheets of graph paper. We watched LOTR, the animated Bakshi version, almost every day. For like a year. We read Warlord comics and I became obsessed with them; I had a huge crush on Travis Morgan, and wanted to go to Skartaris so bad it hurt. I wanted to own the Hellfire sword!

And you know, I bet there are a lot of women out there who had similar experiences. Or, as in the case of both my daughters, had parents who were very into that stuff, and so were raised with it. My girls collect Justice league action figures, and they can name every member. They read comics. They watch Doctor Who with us (and that’s another show that earned lots of grumbles and ire when a romantic subplot was introduced). They love the Superman and Batman animated series. I fully expect that will continue as they grow up, and I hope they find when that happens that they’ll be welcomed by everyone, that they won’t be looked at as “she’s just here because her boyfriend is here,” or “now we’re going to have to add kissing to everything,” or whatever.

But I’m straying from the point. Yes, there is a lot of urban fantasy that has sex with paranormal creatures. But there’s a lot that doesn’t too. There’s a lot written by men (I consider both Charles de Lint and Neil Gaiman to be urban fantasy). There’s a lot that deals with complex moral issues, that makes you think, that asks questions.

That’s what I was going for when I wrote UNHOLY GHOSTS, in fact, and I hope I succeeded. I wanted to write the kind of fantasy I wanted to read, something dark and gritty and tough, something morally ambiguous, something that wasn’t filled with beautiful people being slick and cool, but with people struggling to get by, people who weren’t perfect. I’ve been told by several men who’ve read it that they loved it. Ironically, in fact, the only negative comments I’ve seen about it have all come from women, who have issues with the drug use, or think the world is too dark, or whatever. The men seem to like it because it’s not a stereotypical creature-sex-and-snark urban fantasy, and the few women who haven’t liked it seemed to dislike it because it’s not a stereotypical creature-sex-and-snark urban fantasy. And hey, to each his or her own; nobody’s going to like everything all the time, and I’d much rather write a book that inspires passion and thinking than one people just sort of shrug about, and forget five minutes after they’ve finished it. Although what this says about my “UF isn’t just for girls, and it isn’t just thinly veiled paranormal romance” topic here I don’t know.

My Demons books were very close to paranormal romance. I still don’t think they were, because ultimately they were Megan’s stories, and about how she came to accept herself and the changes in her life, and ultimately she was the one who had to defeat the Big Bads. But I freely acknowledge, and did when they were released, that they skirted the line between paranormal romance and urban fantasy. The Downside books really don’t. Yes, there’s a romantic subplot, but it’s a small part of the series (it gets more attention in the third book, but if the series continues I expect the third book will still be the most romance-heavy of the series; I don’t have any plans for it to get any more romantic).

In writing the Downside books I wanted to stretch the limits of urban fantasy. I wanted to return to its roots. I want to raise questions and examine issues. I wanted to make people think. Because I think that’s what great urban fantasy can do, and what it should do. I think it’s an amazing genre, one that can really turn a bright light on society and humanity and expose the underbellies, both the good and the bad. So it makes me sad to see that it’s become a genre (or subgenre, really) so easily dismissed as “sex with vampires.” It makes me sad to see men automatically turning away from it because they think–many times without even having read one, or having just read one they grabbed at random–that that’s all the genre is, and so they put it down and decide it’s just for those wimpy, sappy girls who need material for their sexual fantasies (as if the preponderance of incredibly–and improbably–large-breasted women with teeny tiny waists and Callipygian asses has nothing to do with male sexual fantasies). In saying all of this I certainly don’t mean to imply that mine are the only urban fantasies that do this, of course. There are many that do. I’m just saying what my specific goal was.

This is turning into an incredibly long post, and I really should wrap it up. So I’d like to know what you think. Do you think urban fantasy deserves its reputation as just chick books? Why do you think men avoid it or put it down? How do you think that could change, or do you think that could change? Or do you have any other thoughts?

Feel free to comment anonymously if you like. Either way I’d love to hear what you think.

This has, as you can imagine, sparked a bit of controversy in the literary world.

I’m going to blog about it, because I feel like I should. But I’m not entirely comfortable doing it, to be honest. I don’t like doing it. I am, to put it mildly, in a bit of an moral dilemma here, and I need to decide if my ethical standards are really that strong, and I’ve decided that they are. I’ve taken a stand on this situation in the past and would be a hypocrite not to do the same again; I’ve presented myself–and worked hard to make myself–someone who helps other writers and offers advice, and I would be a hypocrite not to speak out now.

Here’s the thing. Waxman is, as I said above, and excellent agency. I know a few people–one I consider a good friend–who are repped by Holly Root there. Holly is a fantastic agent. Her clients love her, and she does a great job for them. And up until yesterday I had no compunction at all recommending her to any of my friends who were looking for representation.

But I can’t do that anymore, and that makes me sad.

See, there’s this organization called the Association of Author’s Representatives (AAR). They’re basically the professional organization for literary agents; they have strict standards for becoming a member agent, and a Canon of Ethics which is designed to make sure that standards in the industry stay at a certain level, and that authors can query AAR member agents with confidence. This Canon reads in part:

We pledge ourselves to loyal service to our clients’ business and artistic needs. We allow no conflict of interest that would interfere with such service.

and

Member’s compensation for all transactions shall be derived solely from the client. A member who represents a client in the grant of rights in any property owned or controlled by the client may not accept any other form of compensation or other payment from the acquirer of such rights. Members shall not represent both buyer and seller in the same transaction.

In other words, an agent can’t represent both the writer and the publisher in one transaction, and an agency shouldn’t have any sort of conflict of interest, such as would occur when, say, they own the publisher they’re selling their client to.

Now, before we go any further I need to make something extremely clear. There is not a doubt in my mind that the Waxman Literary Agency and all of its member agents are good and decent people who will do their best for their clients. Not a doubt. I don’t think they’re scammers. I don’t think they’re doing this to cheat their clients or other writers. I don’t think this means in any way that they won’t still try to sell their clients’ mss to NY houses as hard and as effectively as they can. Absolutely NOT.

But I still think this is a breach of ethics, and a serious problem, for several reasons.

The first…well, historical romance writer Courtney Milan has already said it quite eloquently. Go read her post. I’ll wait here. She addresses the conflict of interest extremely well, and for me to do so would just be redundant.

The second is based on this interview with Scott Waxman about the project, on Theresa Meyers’s blog. In it Mr. Waxman–who seems like a very nice, very professional man–talks about the venture, and his reasons for it.

But the thing is, as we’ve learned, and and has been discussed in the past here and elsewhere, epublishing is not like “regular” publishing. It’s a specialized industry, with its own rules. Experience and knowledge in print publishing absolutely does not necessarily translate (Quartet Publishing, anyone? Ravenous Romance?) As I’ve said here before, ebook readers tend to stay with particular ebook houses. That may be changing a bit with the advent of the Kindle and the Nook, but the advent of the Kindle and the Nook also mean that readers have a lot more options for ebooks.

In the interview, Mr. Waxman says:

We also have a strong focus on original content whereas it seems that the majority of epublishers are looking for out of print or classic eBook rights.

I have to be honest here; I have no idea what he’s talking about. I don’t even know of any ebook publishers who primarily publish reprints. I do know dozens of ebook publishers who publish new, original content every day, or every other day, or twice a week depending on their release schedule. I’m terribly confused as to how anyone could research the ebook industry and not have seen all of those publishers.

He also says:

I like the opportunity the eBook format presents to the author. There’s a sense of being able to control your own destiny for projects that the big houses don’ t want to bother with. I’ve been at this long enough to trust my own instincts on a book. So, just because a publisher says it’s “too small”, we can now attempt to prove them wrong and still make a go of it.

Which sounds great, and like I said, I honestly believe he thinks he’s doing the absolute best for his clients. But why start up an epublishing imprint, thus creating a conflict of interest and a breach of AAR ethics? Why not submit your clients to an existing epublisher, or small press? Just as there are dozens of established epublishers out there with ready customer bases, there are dozens of established small presses out there, with budgets and distribution and skilled editors and all of those other things. Why not submit to them, if the project isn’t right for NY? Isn’t an agent is supposed to keep trying until the project sells, even if it’s to a smaller house? It’s confusing, and I’m sure it’s simply worded badly in the interview, but I find the whole concept disturbing.

The fact is, this is a newbie epublisher, and as a newbie epublisher the chance that it will fail is something like 60%; the chance that it will actually make good money for its authors is way, way lower. So simply from a business stance, it’s something I would and do warn writers away from. The epublishing world is already crowded. When is the last time a new ehouse opened and became very successful? Samhain is the last one I can think of, and that was in, what, 2006? I know several have opened since then, but none have been really successful; most have closed and those that haven’t sort of limp along in writers-buying-each-others’-books-obscurity.

Which leads me to my last objection, and it’s the big one.

In March 2000, a self-proclaimed “literary agent” named Dorothy Deering was sentenced to 46 months in federal prison for defrauding hundreds of “clients” by, essentially, selling their manuscripts to a “publisher” she owned. (In reality “Sovereign House” was just a front, but the fact remains that she sold her clients–on paper at least–to a vanity press she herself owned, and charged them for the privilege.) You can read a short case study of it here, or buy the (excellent) book about the case, Ten Percent of Nothing by Jim Fisher.

And there have been others, less wealthy and successful, perhaps, but others. There continue to be others. The wonderful folks at Writer Beware keep a running list of them, and of course they’re often discussed in the Bewares, Recommendations, and Background Checks forum at Absolute Write (linked in the sidebar). I’m a moderator at AW and have been a member for years now. And it is absolutely amazing to me, shocking to me, how many scam agents there are out there. Agents who charge reading fees. Agents who charge other fees. Agents who sell their clients to vanity publishers (for, you got it, a fee).

Waxman is NOT a scam. Not, not, not. But when legitimate agencies do things like this, it makes it harder for writers to protect themselves from scams, because it makes it harder for those of us who try to help them.

How? Let me explain. When a scam agency sets itself up, it doesn’t come out and tell people–potential victims–that it’s a scam. The principals make shit up. They lie about sales or claim that information is “confidential.” They tell potential victims that “everyone charges fees.” Or, sometimes, they claim that “lots of agents are publishers too” or “lots of agencies change their own clients to publish” or “lots of authors start in self-publishing,” in order to convince their clients to sign those vanity deals they get kickbacks for. They tell them NO agents can afford to support themselves purely on commission, and that ALL agents have other ways–like starting their own publishers–to bring in cash.

So when a legitimate agency does something like this, it gives extra ammunition to every scammer out there. It’s like manna from Heaven for those who would defraud writers, those who would lie and cheat and steal from them, and sell them dreams plated with cheap fake gold. Now every scam agent out there can point to the Waxman agency, and say, “See? That agency, a big New York agency, tells its clients to self-publish first, and they own the publisher! That’ll be $2000.00, please.”

Of course Waxman isn’t charging its clients to publish with their imprint; I would never presume such a thing and don’t mean to imply it in any way, shape, or form. But the fact remains that they’ve just made it easier for every literary scammer in the world to line their pockets.

Yes, we can still tell writers not to query anyone who charges a fee. Or without disclosed sales (an agent who simply crows about “Made a sale!” without saying to whom is an agent to be avoided, generally; its very easy for a scammer to set up a blog, and indeed the Writer Beware blog has caught several scammers doing just that, including setting up fake blogs for their “clients” to celebrate these nonexistent “sales”).

But an agent who owns a publishing imprint? We can no longer use that as a clear-cut signal that the agent isn’t legitimate and won’t get you real NY sales. And THAT more than anything else makes me feel sad, and ill, and very, very sorry, and I feel terrible about the whole thing.

You may have heard of Young Adult Authors Against Bullying, a Facebook group made up of–as the name implies–YA authors who disapprove of bullying. I’m not technically a YA author but I’ve joined, as have a lot of others. And a few weeks ago many writers posted their bullying stories on their blogs. I didn’t; not because I don’t have bullying stories or wasn’t bullied as a child/preteen/teen (believe me, I was, horribly) but because I didn’t learn about it until it was already in progress and I already had this post sort of planned, as I said above.

A lot of this is in reaction to the death of Phoebe Prince, a high-school girl driven to suicide by a gang of less-than-human teenage shitweeds who decided she deserved to be mocked, bullied, teased, insulted, and otherwise abused because she *gasp* dated a guy who used to date one of the aforementioned shitweeds (and the guy later joined in, which just makes me lose hope in the future of humanity, but then, this whole story does).

It reminds me a bit of the Megan Meier case, in which a girl was cyber-bullied not just by kids her own age, but by the mother of one of her acquaintances. A grown fucking woman, who thought it was a good idea to harass and play tricks on a young girl online.

And that’s sort of what I want to discuss. Adult bullying, and the society of mean.

One of the most troubling–of many extremely troubling–aspects of the Phoebe Prince case was the fact that school administrators and teachers knew what was happening, and did nothing. They watched this girl being harassed, and did nothing. Prince’s mother spoke to the school on at least two occasions, and still…nothing.

I’d like someone to explain to me how we live in a world where school administrators seem to think it’s their job to police what sort of food and drink I give my children (even at home), send home letters telling parents their kids are obese, tell me I can’t send my daughter to school with pale pink nail polish on her nails, oversee the moral and/or religious education of my children (whether pro or con), expose my children to the internet over my objections and insist they use it to do their homework, turn my children into salespeople, or encourage my children to lecture me if I have a glass of wine with dinner or a cigarette after, and yet they do not think it’s their job to protect the children in their care and foster a safe learning environment for them.

It infuriates me, but it doesn’t surprise me. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn the teachers joined in, frankly; some of them certainly did with me, when I was in school. I lost count, for example, of the number of times my eighth-grade Social Studies teacher smirked while the other kids in my class picked on me, then gave me demerits the second I opened my mouth to defend myself. Or the drama teacher in seventh grade who decided I was whiny, and encouraged the other kids to make whining noises every time I tried to speak. Just because someone is a teacher and/or an adult doesn’t mean they’re mature and decent; I remember quite a few teachers with malicious smiles in their eyes as they watched me or someone else get picked on, teased, put down. I remember quite a few of them who tolerated or even fostered such behavior in their classes. I remember them playing favorites.

You see, they apparently still wanted to be one of the Cool Kids.

They still wanted to be popular; they still wanted to be liked by that little gang of socs (that’s what we called them) with the money and the fashionable clothes and the perfect hair. And if a few kids got left behind, got their feelings hurt, got destroyed by it? If the only reason some of us didn’t commit suicide ourselves was because we had a cat to take care of? Not their problem, man. Hey, it’s not their job to make people like each other. (NOTE: I want to make it clear that I am talking about a few teachers, the proverbial bad apples who spoil the bunch. I in no way think or intend to imply that all teachers feel or behave this way, okay?)

But it’s not just in schools, you see, that this atmosphere of bullying–this attitude which I feel is a desperate attempt to prove that you are indeed one of the Cool Kids–is present. Not just in the workplace, either, though it certainly can exist there. Hell, we’ve seen it in publishing–particularly epublishing–with authors being intimidated and abused by editors or publishers. We’ve seen it outside of epublishing–though nowhere near as often–with writers being bullied by agents or editors or publishers. In fact, I can think offhand of at least one “industry” blog which seems (to me at least) to exist solely so the owners/bloggers can feel like Cool Kids and make fun of others, using the most inflammatory language possible.

We all remember when Corey Haim died last month. It was a terrible shame, and it was awful to see a man just a few years older than me who’d had so much and lost it all. The night he died Corey Feldman went on Larry King, and the hubs and I watched it. And–it pains me to admit this–I really admired what he said, and agreed with it (yes, I know. A world where I admire and agree with Corey Feldman? Shocking).

What he said, basically, was that Haim had problems, yes. Serious problems. But those problems were exacerbated by a society which seems to think it’s okay to pick on people, to kick them when they’re down. That failure isn’t bad enough; that failure must be made into a joke, and constantly shoved into the face of the one who failed. A society, in fact, which doesn’t just think this is okay, but that’s it’s fun. It’s a good, acceptable thing to do; it shows you’re one of the Cool Kids, if you can think of the snarkiest, wittiest insult for someone who, as Feldman said, “never deliberately hurt another human being in his life.”

Haim’s crime was to grow older, and not be a cute teenager anymore. Sure, he probably became arrogant and difficult. And maybe if he was, people were justified in turning their backs and not wanting to hire him. Hell, we all know what kind of business the film industry is; if you’re not hot anymore, you’re out. And you know, that’s the way it works and that’s okay. But to turn someone into a punchline because they’re no longer hot? To spend long, happy hours making fun of them, insulting them, laughing at them, because they no longer have a career? That’s not okay. Do you call up your relative who was made redundant at his job and laugh about how he’s a failure, how he can’t support his family, how he’s never going to find another job and he should just give up? No? Why not? It was okay to call Corey Haim a loser online, where he might see it (and in fact did on at least one occasion). Why wouldn’t you call other people losers to their faces?

Corey Haim was a human being. Phoebe Prince and Megan Meier were human beings. Just as we are all human beings, even though some of us don’t act that way.

A discussion has been going on in the PublishAmerica forums at Absolute Write recently where a PA author is claiming, basically, that PA only acts the way it does because some disgruntled writers are meanies and blah blah blah. He was, essentially, accusing those who contribute to those threads of being cruel to PA. This is of course not true; PA is a vanity press with terrible customer service which misleads writers and at times outright lies to them, and that information should be spread. But it did get me thinking about what the difference is between making fun/snarking on and providing a service/warning others. The line is definitely there. I believe the PA forums at AW provide a valuable service to writers. I believe all the threads in the Bewares & Background Checks forum provide a valuable service to writers, as does Writer Beware and many of the reader blogs which will pass on information about publishers treating their authors badly or whatever. That’s not snark and it’s not making fun. It’s exposing a wrong, and it’s the right thing to do, I believe.

So I suppose there is a point where you can say, “So-and-so brought this on themselves.” Certainly when I see writers who go off on readers who left them less-than-stellar reviews, I find myself thinking said writers are kind of fair game; they started it. But even then I find there’s a point after which I think it should stop. It infuriates me when writers behave that way, yes, for a number of reasons. But does one mistake really mean someone deserves to have their career ruined? Does one mistake mean it’s okay for people to pile on in droves and start making fun? I’m not talking about condemning the behavior; I’m talking about personal comments. I’m talking about name-calling and insults. Yes, we all get carried away sometimes, myself included. I’m not perfect. But I regret having been carried away like that, and I resolve not to do it again, whereas I know there are people out there who do not feel such regret, who don’t think about what effect their cruelties and jokes may have had on another person, and just move on, often patting themselves on the back for a job well done.

Bullying is bullying, whether the victim is a celebrity or someone whose name you don’t know and never will.

I’m not the most sensitive person in the world, I’m really not (as many of you probably know). The hubs jokes that I would make a great government assassin. And I think he’s right, actually. Lots of things, feeling-and-emotion-type things seem to go right over my head. But I do know that it hurts when people make fun of you, when they have a feeding frenzy over your cheap clothes or your hairdo or height or weight or glasses or flat chest or big stomach or hobbies or that you said something dumb. I can imagine it feels the same when they’re doing it because you were once successful and aren’t anymore, or had a drug problem, or whatever.

Yes, sometimes people’s behavior should be pointed out as wrong. Yes, sometimes people who bully and intimidate others need to have their actions exposed. And sometimes those people get a taste of their own medicine when they are exposed.

But there’s a difference between pointing out that bullying or intimidation in order to help others, and making the perpetrator an object of ridicule, and encouraging others to make fun of them. The former is, even if there are unintended consequences, a positive act, an attempt to make a positive difference in the lives of others. The latter is an attempt to show everyone, once again, that you’re one of the Cool Kids. It’s a power play; it’s the equivalent of calling all your friends to jump the guy who bumped into you on the street, just because he didn’t apologize (not that it’s okay not to apologize, of course). There’s no public service being done, no aid being given to those who might have become victims. The object is to intimidate, to hurt, to show someone you’re better than they are.

I’m tired of it. I’m tired of seeing it. I’m tired of dealing with it. I’m weary of all the anger I see online these days, everyone furious about something, everyone ready to place blame and point fingers and act like everything is a personal affront. I’m tired of seeing insults and bullying and intimidation. I’m tired of people being treated like objects, tired of their feelings being treated as if they don’t matter, tired of hurting others being seen as sport.

When did we all become so fucking important, so fucking special, that we no longer need to take other peoples’ feelings into account? When did we all become so perfect that nobody else is allowed to make a mistake? When did hurting people cease being something we were ashamed of and started being simply an afternoon’s entertainment?

I’m very opinionated here, I know. And I hope I’m often funny here, and that we have fun. I know I joke about people and things. But I also know that I try not to make it personal (well, yeah, I’ve said some pretty icky things about Madonna and Princess Diana in the past, and yeah, I can think of one person who I’ve always been civil to but who makes it extremely difficult for me to be so, and I have no qualms about being mean to that person because that person is mean to everyone else and it literally makes me see red). But in general I try not to step over the line between joking and cruelty, I try not to be mean. I don’t see the fun in hurting people; I’ve been on the receiving end of those kinds of jokes my whole life, and they generally don’t make me laugh. And yes, the barrier is a little lower when it comes to people who have put themselves in the public eye. They have invited us to have an opinion on them–demanded we have an opinion on them, demanded our attention.

But the barrier still exists, I think, at least publicly. I believe it should exist for all of us. Hurting people isn’t a game. At the risk of sounding like a “One to Grow On” spot, hurting people doesn’t make you one of the Cool Kids. And quite frankly, if it does? I’m glad I’m not a Cool Kid. Because that’s not the person I want to be.

What kind of person do you want to be? Where do you draw the line? Are you seeing this “new mean” online and elsewhere as well? Please feel free to share any stories of your own in comments (anonymously if you like), too, especially if they relate to adult bullying or adults who bully, or of course the publishing world.

And…if this post made you think, please pass the link on. Please write your own post on the subject and leave the link in the comments. I know I’m coming to this late, but the YA Writers Against Bullying had the right idea, a great idea; let’s make this part of our dialogue, let’s reach out our hands and hope someone who needs it will see it, and grab on, and find a place where they’re accepted.